


your silent presence

by stardating



Series: when going through a storm [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ADHD, Adopted Peter Parker, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Education, Learning Disabilities, M/M, School, Slow Burn, Teacher Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, single parent tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardating/pseuds/stardating
Summary: Peter is freaking out. Tony is freaking out. Slipping grades, multiple sessions of detention, and fights with classmates are things to freak out about. As are parent-teacher conferences. Sure, Mr. Rogers is Peter’s favorite teacher, buta parent-teacher conference.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: when going through a storm [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838563
Comments: 14
Kudos: 154





	your silent presence

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt on the MCU Stony Discord server that my brain latched onto and wouldn’t let go. It turned out nothing like I originally planned or thought … so you all get a series instead of a single one-shot. I also couldn’t resist making Steve passionate about advocating for students who aren’t neurotypical, given my own background with learning disabilities and my own passions for supporting such students as I work to become an educator myself.
> 
> Some details of Peter’s past are alluded to and not fully explained in here, but they will be in the future, so I hope that isn’t too much of a problem right now!
> 
> Thank you HonouraryNeblitLenka for the prompt and thank you neutronkid for editing!

Tony noticed Peter’s leg was jumping up and down as Happy drove them to the school shortly after five in the evening. Normally, they would be going to the school at this time for some sort of extracurricular activity, like robotics club or some sort of competition. Peter would still be fidgeting, slightly anxious, but it would be born out of excitement. Eager anticipation.

Tony was drumming his fingers on his knee, feeling the same sort of dread.

This time, they were not heading to something that catered specifically to Peter’s strengths or interests. They were not even heading to some sort of school-wide event.

No, not even close.

When Peter told him that one of his teachers asked him to attend a parent-teacher conference, he was nearly in tears. Lately, he had been getting detention for not paying attention, forgetting his school supplies in his locker, or turning in assignments incomplete. There was no doubt that his son was brilliant—past grades and performances showed this—but everything had been spiraling out of control. Arguments and fights with his classmates. Insomnia. Losing track of his possessions at home and getting overwhelmed more frequently than ever.

Tony had done his best to help: more alarms and reminders on Peter’s phone, a check list of items for Peter to confirm were in his backpack … but even JARVIS could only do so much.

“It’ll be okay,” Tony said, looking over his shoulder at Peter, who was clearly worrying himself into an early grave. He reached over and took his hand, stopping Peter from picking his nails. “We’ll go in there, see what your teacher has to say, and sue the school if we have to.”

Peter visibly swallowed.

“I-It’s not that, dad,” he stammered. “Mr. Rogers is awesome. He’s nice—he actually _cares_. He told me we’re going to talk about what’s been going on lately at school, but he didn’t want to talk about everything without you present, but I have no idea what else there could be to talk about besides suspension—”

“Whoa, whoa! No way! I am not letting you get suspended!” Tony exclaimed. “If that was happening, he’d be bringing in the principal!”

“He didn’t say he wouldn’t be!”

At this point, Happy had parked the car. “You two need a minute?”

Tony’s phone alarm went off, giving them ten minutes before they were due for the meeting. He looked over to Peter, who was looking kind of pale now.

“Better to get it done and over with,” Tony said gently. “I’ll be there every second.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

Exiting the car, Tony kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder, glad that he hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet. Some of Peter’s peers were _tall_ for their age and that was likely where some of the bullying came into play. No one knew that Peter took after his mother’s side of the family, which meant that he was going to be a bean pole sooner rather or later. Peter walked close to Tony, enough that their arms and elbows bumped into one another. He seemed to do better being grounded this way, at least until they got to Mr. Roger’s classroom.

“What does he teach again?” Tony asked as they stood outside, both nearly petrified.

“History,” Peter answered. “Um, all of the US histories, including AP.”

“Have you gotten into trouble with him before?”

“No.”

Tony frowned, not sure what to expect. If Peter weren’t already in advanced course, he would assume Mr. Rogers was going to suggest accelerating him, like other teachers had before around the beginning of the school year. He _hated_ not knowing what this was going to be about. Why did his teacher have to be so vague? Why had he only sent a physical note? Why not some sort of lengthy email that he could have JARVIS pick apart?

“Well, here goes nothing.”

Tony opened the door and led the way in.

Mr. Rogers was sitting behind his desk and Tony inwardly _cursed_.

He was _gorgeous_. Broad shoulders, blonde hair that seemed to be a little too floppy to be completely professional, and he was wearing these glasses that were downright sinful! There was no way this guy was a teacher. He was too handsome. This _had_ to be a mistake.

“Peter,” Mr. Rogers greeted, looking up from his laptop. He took off his glasses, closed his laptop, and stood up in one fluid motion. “Mr. Stark, I assume?”

“Yes,” Tony said, shaking his hand as he came out from behind his desk. He had a good handshake, as if he practiced. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

“Hi, Mr. Rogers,” Peter said softly, clearly nervous.

Tony pulled a desk forward, making as much noise as possible, and sat down.

“So, what is this meeting about? I got the note, but it was kind of vague beyond some of the issues Peter has been having his classes.”

Mr. Roger nodded, seemingly unfazed by Tony’s attempts at trolling. “Yes, I apologize for that. I wanted to discuss the subject fully in person. Sometimes emails don’t convey everything well. But first, I want to start on a positive note. Peter is a delight to have in my class. He brings many interesting points of views to our class discussions and I have always enjoyed his projects. Many of the directions he takes them in are quite original.”

“So …?” Tony drawled. He knew his son was smart. He knew he had many original ideas and different ways of thinking. Sometimes the two of them got carried away discussing one thing or another and it led to Peter’s name having to be put on the copyright documentation of a project.

What was he buttering him up to?

“Peter, is your father aware of the different issues you have been having in your classes?”

Peter had sat down as well, but didn’t move the desk closer. Mr. Rogers addressing him made him startle. He had been fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, like he had been trying to pretend he was anywhere else. Tony didn’t blame him.

“Uh—yeah. The incomplete or missing assignments, the detentions, um. Other stuff.”

“We’ve been working on it,” Tony interjected. “More alarms and notifications on his phone, working on time management skills and organization …”

“And that is great, but I think that is only going to do so much.”

Tony sensed another ‘but’ coming and not the kind he would like. Tony blinked and forced those thoughts out of his head. No. This Rogers fellow was the enemy, potentially one of the reasons why Peter was having such a miserable time at school when he usually excelled at and enjoyed learning. What used to be one of Peter’s favorite places was now a personal hell.

He might not have known about Peter until he was about ten years old, he might have been considered an ‘irresponsible parent’ and ‘unfit’ to raise a child, but dammit, he proved them wrong! He got custody of him and found his biological aunt and uncle! He made sure to involve them in Peter’s life! He got him into a good school, made sure he had a routine, and he was not going to let some … some … _educator_ undo the last two years by saying that there was something wrong with his kid or he was a delinquent or hopeless!

Okay, that might be Tony projecting a little, but it still stood! Teachers did that!

As if he could sense their apprehension, Mr. Rogers turned back to Peter.

“Hey, Peter, do you find yourself daydreaming a lot in your other classes?”

“Huh? Uh—yeah. Except science. Science is really cool.”

Tony frowned. What?

“And where are you seated in your science class?”

Peter frowned, not quite understanding either. “Up front, center of the class. Like in here.”

“Do you do a lot of worksheets? Or tests?”

“No, more hands-on activities and classroom discussions. Mrs. Elison likes to do a lot of experiments.”

Mr. Rogers started to smile, which was a red flag in Tony’s book. “So, would you say that you have a harder time concentrating in your classes where you do a lot of rote memorization, worksheets, and where there are distractions, like a window or friends nearby?”

Peter started drumming his fingers on the desk. “Um. I guess?”

“And this happens at home too, right?”

Tony noticed his leg was bouncing up and down. His heart was racing. Where was this teacher getting at? Where was all of this going? His mind was going a mile a minute with different possibilities, but mostly with memories of when he was in school. Teaching was a lot different back then. So many classes were focused on rote memorization and drilling facts into students’ heads, not to mention the rising demand for accountability and better test results.

It wasn’t anything like what happened in the 90s, especially with some of the policies from the Bush Administration, but Tony had lost count how many times his knuckles rapped by a ruler or he had been dragged to the principal’s office for some teacher to complain about how he was so easily distracted and restless, how he didn’t follow directions, or got into arguments.

It wasn’t his fault the classes were boring or his classmates were stupid.

Or that his father demanded a lot of him.

Or—

Peter’s eyes darted away for a moment. “Yes? It’s really hard to concentrate and remember things sometimes. I try, and my dad has been helping a lot, but—it’s hard!”

“That’s alright.” Mr. Rogers’ voice was gentle. “I know you try. You are one of the most determined, persistent students I have ever had. You do your best and I appreciate that.”

Tony watched as Peter flushed some more. He didn’t seem to be uncomfortable. If anything, there was awe in his eyes. Peter had mentioned Mr. Rogers a time or two before, but it wasn’t anything over the top. No overly gushing, no long rants about how wonderful he was. There was a lot about children, about Peter, Tony didn’t know and he wished he did. But reading child psychology books would only take him so far and he had to juggle so many other things too.

Then Mr. Rogers’ eyes—god, they were a piercing blue—focused back on Tony.

“Mr. Stark, we are going to need to meet with some more specialized professionals, but I believe that your son has ADHD.”

“ADHD?” Tony repeated.

“Yes. It’s usually caught before now, but if I recall correctly, Peter was in foster care for a few years before you adopted him?”

Old and bitter memories were instantly stirred up. He hated that he wasn’t contacted the moment Peter’s mother had died. If she had told him, if he had _known_ , Peter would never have wanted for anything. He would have done right by both of them, whatever that ended up being. Peter would have never been shuffled from family to family, getting uprooted every time those supposed _parents_ found out that he wasn’t the kid they were hoping for, whatever that was. But Tony couldn’t change the past. He could only make up for it now and do better in the future.

“Yes, he was. Why are you thinking he has ADHD? Maybe he’s just having trouble adjusting to middle school. Sometimes that happens. He’s only a sixth grader!”

“Yes,” Mr. Rogers agreed. “However, Peter has been displaying many symptoms that fall under ADHD. If this were about adjusting to middle school and a new environment, these issues would be less consistent and would be improving over time. I have also heard him complain that he has been losing possessions frequently, he forgets about extracurricular activities and other plans, and some of his relationships with his classmates have been deteriorating.”

“But Flash is—!”

“I know about Thompson,” Mr. Rogers told Peter. “I’ll be addressing that Monday morning with his parents. His behavior towards others is inappropriate and needs to stop. But we are focusing on you and your needs for now, okay?”

Peter flushed. “Okay.”

“So, we do what?” Tony asked, unable to hold back a scowl. “Do tests? Put him on medication?”

“More tests, certainly. While all teachers get training and education about learning disorders and other disabilities, I am by no means an expert. I cannot give a diagnosis. I’m actually shocked and disappointed no one else has spoken up for Peter before now.”

Despite those kind words, Peter looked absolutely devastated.

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, getting up and kneeling beside him. “It’s okay, Peter. There’s nothing wrong with you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I—this means—”

Tony could see the trail of thought that was going through Peter’s head: there was something wrong with him, there was something broken. He hated Mr. Rogers’ for a moment then, for getting Peter caught up in this. Sure, if he had a learning disability or something, Tony would want it addressed, but did he have to do it in a way that made Peter think like this? Peter had already gone through so much in the last few years, from the sudden death of his mother to surviving the foster care system to learning who Tony was. Couldn’t he catch a break?

“There’s nothing wrong with having a disability or being different,” Mr. Rogers said, coming over and kneeling on the other side of the desk Peter was sitting in. He was so tall that it only put him at eye level. “Do you remember how I told the class I was colorblind?”

Peter nodded, but there was still a wobble in his lip and unshed tears. “Y-Yeah.”

Tony looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not sure where this was going to go.

“And so, I sketch with charcoal and sculpt, instead of trying to work with watercolor. But that doesn’t make me less of an artist, right?”

Peter nodded again.

“It’s the same for you. You’re still a brilliant student. You just need some extra help, like someone who needs to be tutored in math. It’ll be a bit of trial and error, but your father helping you with organization and time management is _great_ start. We can try other things, like getting you a planner or seating you somewhere else in your classes so you can focus more easily. Once we get a diagnosis, we’ll know more of what to do, but it doesn’t mean you will be put on medication. That is between you, your dad, and what the doctor will recommend.”

As Mr. Rogers spoke, Tony felt like he had a rug pulled out from under him.

This meeting had not gone like he expected or feared.

He thought it was going to be filled with accusations, with someone telling him that Peter was a poor student, had lack of impulse-control, and was too energetic. A troublemaker, a disruption. Never mind that he was getting bullied, if he paid more attention in class and stopped talking, everyone would treat him normally and there wouldn’t _be_ a problem.

So much of this was projection, but—

“Is ADHD genetic?” Tony asked. It sounded like such a basic question. He was going to research the _hell_ out of this when he got home. Maybe he could even do it in the car.

“It can be,” Mr. Rogers said, turning back to Tony. “There are other factors involved, but about eleven percent of students have ADHD in some form or another. Peter isn’t alone in this. But before we get ahead of ourselves, how about we set up a meeting with our paraprofessional and rule out anything else? ADHD is a possibility, but that doesn’t mean it is what’s going on.”

“Okay. Does that sound like a plan, Peter?”

Peter hesitated. Tony could see the gears twisting and turning in his mind as he processed everything. This was big for someone his age. There were going to have to be more discussions, more than one research binge with some power point presentations for Peter to be shown, and Tony could see the two of them in a lot more meetings in the future.

It would be worth it, though. If Peter got the help he needed, if he was able to learn skills and get tools to help him succeed in school and manage other areas of his life better, if it would help him adjust so he smiled more and worried less about lost headphones or incomplete assignments, Tony would sit in a hundred boring meetings back-to-back. He would go to hell for his kid.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Mr. Rogers stood and Tony quickly did the same, though he stepped closer to Peter and put his hand on his shoulder. Peter automatically leaned into him and Tony still felt his heart swell every time he did that. Most kids, after learning about who their absentee father was, would be leery of them, especially after being shuffled around in the foster system. Peter, however? He acted like Tony was the best thing that happened to him, like Tony had never screwed up once in his life.

Tony wasn’t sure how much of it might have been hero worship at the beginning, but all thoughts about that flew out the window when Peter made him a father’s day card because he couldn’t find one in a store that said what he wanted to say. The letter drove him to _tears_.

The kid was too kind, too compassionate. Oh, they had their moments. What parent and child didn’t? But Tony always would stand by what he had said before: Peter was more than he _ever_ deserved.

“Thank you for meeting with me for this,” Mr. Rogers said. “I’ll forward you an email so you can set up a meeting with our specialist and we can follow up at a later date ourselves. In the meantime, have a good weekend.”

The end of the meeting felt anticlimactic. They said their goodbyes, both sides expressed gratitude for meeting with the other, and soon enough, Tony and Peter were walking back to the car where Happy was.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Peter said quietly. “I-I mean, I guess it makes sense … I’ve heard a bit about ADHD. On the internet.”

“Yeah. I’ll admit I don’t know much about it, but I’m gonna become an expert in it before the weekend is over.”

It was the least he could do. Maybe do some research into adult ADHD as well, if that was a thing. Was it a thing? Did ADHD get better over time? Was it only management of symptoms like other disorders out there? Should he research mental illnesses in general? What if Peter had something like depression or anxiety along with ADHD? Was that a possibility?

“Could … we go to Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s first?”

Tony blinked, pausing in his list of professionals to harass for resources and information. “Sure. Today or over the weekend?”

“Today?” Peter was biting his lip nervously, like Tony would say no.

“Let me give them a call first,” Tony replied, pulling out his phone. As if May or Ben would say no. They adored Peter and had been relieved when Tony contacted them and were more than ecstatic to be a part of Peter’s life, despite the past falling out with his mother.

Once it was confirmed that May and Ben would love to have them over, Tony put his phone away and gave Peter a tight hug. Peter buried his face in Tony’s chest, trying to hold back a sob. Tony hated that this wasn’t a problem he couldn’t solve with some grease or a screwdriver. He hated that this might be a long-term issue for Peter, but at least they had someone inside the school working to help them.

Immense hotness aside, Tony hoped that Mr. Rogers would continue to be a good thing for Peter.

“We’ll be okay,” Tony swore. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out. But for now, we’re going to try to weasel some extra cookies out of Aunt May. Sounds good?”

Peter pulled back, wiping his eyes, but he was smiling a little. “Aunt May will tell _you_ no.”

“You say that like _you’ll_ get all the cookies.”

“I will.”

Peter darted off for the car, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hey! No, that’s not fair! She said it was chocolate chip this time!”

On the way to May and Ben’s house, Tony heard a ping and brought his phone out—as he had hoped, it was the message from Mr. Rogers giving him the contact information to the paraprofessionals and his own contact information and office hours. He put it away without answering it. JARVIS would remind him on Monday morning. For now, he wanted to get his son smiling again and not worrying so much about the latest curveball life had thrown him.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for the title of this series (and the individual works) comes from a Thema Davis quote: “When someone is going through a storm, your silent presence is more powerful than a million empty words.”


End file.
